


Dealing with Warlocks

by oncethrown



Series: Oncethrown's AU Monday Stories [2]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, fractured fairytale au, shadowhunter au monday
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 00:29:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10477992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oncethrown/pseuds/oncethrown
Summary: Fractured Fairytale AUPrincess Lydia of Branwell would rather risk everything than accept the proposal of Prince Victor of Aldertree.And she does. With the help of her Lady in Waiting-Duchess Maia of Roberts- and a talking frog, Lydia takes off for more adventure than expected.But when a misunderstanding on behalf of Princess Clarissa of Fray and her one true love: Jace formerly-deposed-of-Wayland-temporary-ward-of-the-kingdom-of-Lightwood-and-recently-legitimized-by-a-magic-sword-that-only-speaks-the-truth-as-king-of-Herondale Sends knight after knight to rescue Lydia from her captor/host/employer the Moderately Dreadful Warlock Magnus Bane, Lydia's escape from Prince Victor starts to seem short-lived.Things only get more complicated when Prince Alec of Lightwood comes to the castle to offer her a deal: instead of throwing her over the back of his horse and carrying her back to his kingdom as a prize, he intends to stay in Magnus Bane's fortress and earn her hand, and her trust. If she still doesn't want to marry him after that, he'll leave.But Alec's adventure is about to become even more of a mess than Lydia's.





	1. In Which Maia is the Best Lady In Waiting Ever

Once upon a time, in the Kingdom of Branwell, there lived a fourth daughter. The first three daughters had married well. They had created good alliances with loyal and devoted husbands in rich kingdoms. They were beginning to bear snugly sweet children with bright blue eyes and straw blond hair.

 

They were very happy.

 

The fourth daughter, Lydia, was expected to be happy too. 

 

* * *

 

 

“Victor of Aldertree,” Lydia said, finally walking into her bedroom after a very uncomfortable dinner, and an unpleasantly long walk around the grounds with the same man. 

 

“A very handsome Prince,” her Lady in Waiting, Maia said with outsized enthusiasm as she pulled the door shut behind them, and bolted it shut.

 

“I am not marrying that son of a bitch,” Lydia announced, the second she heard the bolt click.

 

“Thank god,” Maia huffed, following Lydia to her vanity. Lydia sat, and Maia began to pull the pins from Lydia’s hair. “What the hell are your parents thinking?”

 

“Probably that you can only split a kingdom into so many pieces, and Aldertree has enough mines that they’ll consider a bride payment enough, and won't demand a quarter of a kingdom as part of my dowry.”

 

Maia scoffed, tossing pins onto the vanity with a clatter. “He’s been married before.”

 

“And did you see the way he looked at me?” Lydia asked. “I’d bet my dowry his first wife’s body is rotting in a closet somewhere in that big dark castle of his.”

 

“You could turn him down.”

 

“My sisters didn't turn down suitors.”

 

“Your sisters wanted handsome husbands and got handsome suitors,” Maia said dismissively. “And they didn't spend two hours trying not to shiver while Prince Victor stared at them like a roast pheasant.”

 

“I didn't particularly want a suitor,” Lydia sighed. “Why go from being a daughter directly to being a wife? There’s got to be more out in the world. I’ve barely been out of this castle. I’ve never been out of the kingdom. Not once!”

 

“Husbands get you out of the kingdom,” Maia pointed out.

 

Lydia looked at Maia in the mirror “You’ve turned down a suitor or four yourself, Maia.”

 

“I’m not a princess.”

 

“You _are_ a duchess.”

 

Maia grinned. “I _am_. My army is enormous and well trained, my regent is handsome and favored by a very powerful queen, I am currently attendant on a very respectable family,” her grin spread even further across her face. “And I control the biggest fucking port into the Shadowhunter lands. As soon as you get married, I’m going to go home, ship Luke off to Jocelyn’s court, levy an export tax on those goddamn Pangborns, and hole up in my castle. I will revel in my reputation as a snobby virgin duchess until I find a husband who will treat me well and knows how to take orders.”

 

Lydia quirked an eyebrow at Maia’s reflection. “Virgin?”

 

Maia laughed. “They’ll take my army’s word for it, I’m sure. Besides. You’re certainly not as pure as your father told Prince Victor you are.”

 

Lydia sighed again. Maia’s grin faded, becoming serious. “You know, your Highness, there are ways to avoid marriage and seek adventure. Ways that duchesses are much more likely to hear about than princesses.”

 

“What sorts of ways?”

 

A smile crept back onto Maia’s face. “It depends on how brave you are.”

 

* * *

 

Victor of Aldertree went to the King of Branwell at first light, and bowed low as he asked for the King’s daughter’s hand in marriage. King Branwell most heartily agreed, and wept to lose his youngest daughter. 

 

But when the Queen went to rouse her daughter with the good news, Princess Lydia was nowhere to be found.

 

They asked Duchess Maia of Roberts, who was too distraught to answer. They asked the guards at the gate, who came to a sudden and silent agreement to forget about the strange noise that had pulled them from their post the prior night. 

 

No one asked the talking frog in the garden, who was the only being in the kingdom who knew where Princess Lydia had gone, and wouldn’t have told them anyway. 

 

* * *

 

“Holy shit, it's really here,” Lydia huffed as she came to the top of the foot hill and saw the castle, even more splendid than Maia had described. 

 

And much farther away than that talking frog Maia had told her about had lead her to believe. 

 

She took a gulp from her water skin. Even with miles to go and a summer sun beating down on her, the looming castle in the mountains, full of mystery and danger and magic, was far more appealing than Prince Victor.

 

The path up the mountain was wide, but twisted around out cropping and switched backed a long the steepest parts. Lydia came to the castle gates by the light of a full moon. 

 

The front gates were built to look like metal vines. Flowers glinted in the moonlight, and thorns. They were tall, and wide enough for an army. 

 

But they were also thrown open. The wide open arms of a trap.

 

Lydia stood in front of them, thinking. She couldn’t get back down the mountain in the dark. And isn’t this exactly what she had told Maia she wanted? Unpredictability? Adventure?

 

More water. That’s what she really wanted. When Maia had told her to prepare for a days journey, Lydia hadn’t thought Maia had meant literally the entire day.

 

So Lydia walked through the gates, onto the lawns, which were bursting with flowers she had never seen before. Their perfume was heavy on the air.   She began to wonder just how powerful the owner of this castle was. 

 

The door to the castle was high and golden. A huge knocker, about half as big as Lydia herself gleamed on it. It was shaped like a cat, with oversized emerald eyes. 

 

It was very late to call at a stranger’s door, but it would be just as rude to sleep in his garden. She reached out, but before she could take the knocker in hand, the doors flew inward and a terrible voice filled the night air

 

“WHO DARES DISTURB MAGNUS BANE!”

 

The voice was so loud, so deep, that the power of it brought Lydia to her knees. The name. She knew the name from somewhere, but under the onslaught of noise she couldn’t think. Rocks slid down the side of the mountain and the floor beneath her shook.

 

“I am Princess Lydia, of Branwell!” She called back into the silent void the voice had left in its wake. 

 

There was a long pause. 

 

“PRINCESS?”

 

Lydia repeated her title, getting back onto her feet.

 

“SO…NOT JACE OF HERONDALE?” The voice asked, just as loud, but now puzzled. 

 

“No?” Lydia responded. This was not what she had been expecting. 

 

Another pause. Then an aggravated sigh. 

 

“WELL, IS HE WITH YOU?”

 

A teeny flicker of light appeared. A candle at the end of a very, very long hallway. 

 

Lydia pulled the dagger from her belt. She’d stolen it from the stables. When she had been younger one of the castle huntsman had taught her a little bit of knife fighting. A kindly, gray old man with several grand children her age. 

 

But she had never been good and that had been quite a long time ago. And yet she couldn’t bring herself to run, even as the light got closer. 

 

The light was joined by soft foot steps and a swish of silk, all of which became a glow of color. 

 

Bright red hair and a pink face above a sky blue dressing gown tied with a bright orange sash. It was like looking at a sunset in a broken mirror. It took a moment for Lydia to realize she was looking into the face of a woman only a few years younger than her. 

 

“Magnus, you can turn it off, it's not him,” the young woman called back into the dark hallway. “He won't be here until tomorrow. He just sent a fire message.”

 

The magically magnified voice let out another irritated sigh. “YOU COULD HAVE MENTIONED THAT.”

 

“I figured you’d be asleep.”

 

With what looked very much like a swirl of stardust, a man appeared next to the red headed woman. 

 

“I was just settling into a lovely cup of tea and a lovelier book.”

 

A warlock, Lydia realized, the shock running through her. Magnus Bane. The Dread Warlock Magnus Bane, who stole children from the Shadowhunter lands to entertain him in his mountain fortress. 

 

Maybe she could run home in the dark after all. 

 

Magnus Bane took the lamp from the girl beside him and held it out to look at Lydia. 

 

If the girl next to him was a sunset, Magnus Bane was the night sky. His clothes, hair and eyes were all black, but the lamplight caught in all of them and shone like there were stars all over him. 

 

“Another runaway,” Magnus sighed. “Suitor season, it seems, is upon us. Faster every year. Clarissa, did your dearest Jace happen to mention _what time_ he will be arriving tomorrow?”

 

“Well. Men can’t just walk in,” Clarissa replied, speaking to Magnus with a degree of familiarity that Lydia could not make sense of. She knew the name Clarissa too, but could not remember where she had heard it. Fantastic, her first taste of adventure was making her slow and stupid. 

 

“We’ve discussed this, Clarissa,” Magnus yawned. “It’s not quite that simple. Has he passed the Forest of Statues yet?”

 

“He had just gone by it. And he followed directions. He didn’t touch any of the stones.”

 

“Lovely. Then if he isn’t a complete idiot, he should be here before lunch.”

 

“Maybe we can break out that champagne you mentioned?” Clarissa said with false innocence.

 

“That champagne is for _me_ ,” Magnus replied. “I’m saving it for when I finally have my castle to myself.” He gave Lydia a pointed look. “I do so look forward to drinking it one day. Well. Come in. Clarissa will get you settled.”

 

The name and face finally attached themselves to a memory in Lydia’s mind and her knees dropped her into a curtsy before the rest of her brain and body could keep up. “Princess Clarissa of Fray,” Lydia said. “Queen Jocelyn’s daughter. Forgive me, I didn’t recognize you.”

 

“It’s fine, we don’t exactly stand on formality here,” Clarissa said, returning the curtsy casually. “And you are?”

 

“Princess Lydia of Branwell.”

 

“Oh, that’s a lovely kingdom. Terribly far away though. If your suitor is coming all that way you’ll be here for at least a week.”

 

“I walked,” Lydia replied, quickly tacking on, “your Highness.”

 

Princess Clarissa waived away the honorific. 

 

“Everyone walks here,” Magnus said. “Well. Not everyone. Quite a lot of people. I certainly wish Jace of Herondale was one of those who could walk here.”

 

“Poor Magnus complains and complains about the endless line of young women running through his castle like a crossroads, but he’s enchanted the castle to draw us here.”

 

“That spell used to be a lot more fun for me,” Magnus said. “Young women would run away looking for comfort or adventure… and then they all got so depressingly… young. That happened very suddenly. I’m sure I didn’t get old that suddenly. But I can’t find the spell book I need to undo it, so here I am. A boarding house for wayward royalty.”

 

“Who he now helps, out of the kindness of his heart.”

 

“Ahem,” Magnus interrupted. “He helps them expecting payment and to create alliances which he expects will pay off in the future. Something Queen Jocelyn might have remembered.”

 

“After Jace and I are married, I’m going to ask my mother about that,” Clarissa told Magnus. 

 

“Much good may it do you, my dear.” He looked from Clarissa to Lydia with another sigh and handed Clarissa the lantern. “If you’re hungry Clarissa can show you the kitchen. And she can set you up in the room next to hers. The last princess left all her clothes and toiletries when she left. They always do.”

 

And with a snap of his fingers, Magnus Bane was gone. 

 

* * *

 

Princess Lydia had many questions for Princess Clarissa. About their mysterious host, his powers and his motivations. About the young man coming to rescue Princess Clarissa from such a strange place. 

 

But she was tired from her journey, and could not even bring herself to eat before succumbing to sleep in a strange bed. 


	2. In Which King Jace Executes A Daring Rescue. Sort Of.

King Jace lead his horse to the clear stream pouring down from the mountain and dropped beside his steed to drink. Just before his lips touched the water, his mind overpowered his exhaustion. He stood again and knelt to drink on the _other side_ of the horse.

 

He’d made good time. He’d been able to see the sunset glinting off the castle last night. Actually being able to see his destination had motivated him. He’d woken well before dawn and ridden in the direction of Magnus Bane’s gleaming castle. All the while picturing Clary inside of it. In his mind she was sprawled out in a picture window, in a high tower, watching the plain below and wondering which far away speck might be him, riding toward her, ready to take her away from her vile captor. 

 

He knew exactly what he would do. Jace had been trained for this since birth, only to briefly have his entire identity taken from him. But his legitimacy had been returned. He was a King now, and he would climb this mountain and defeat this warlock. He would let him live, because Jace intended to be a merciful and just ruler. His time as a commoner had opened his eyes to their struggles, and in preparation to lead, he was already learning all that the kingdoms had to offer about agricultural law. 

 

Admittedly, this was next to nothing, but you had to start somewhere. 

 

But first, he would rescue his beloved. 

 

“Finally,” Jace sighed, then flinched, waiting for the reply, which didn't come. 

 

His journey had nearly cured him of his habit of talking to himself. And what little tendency remained was sure to be worked out by a return journey with both Clary and the sword for company. 

 

Jace wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, stood, and gathered his horse’s reigns, tugging her away from the stream first gently, then, when she ignored him, much more emphatically. 

 

“Come on, girl,” he whispered to her. “Come on. We’re nearly done. Just a little bit farther to the girl of my dreams, yeah? Come on, Clary’s waiting for us to rescue her.”

 

“Harumph. That’s what you think,” said the sword. 

 

* * *

 

And so Jace formerly-deposed-of-Wayland-temporary-ward-of-the-kingdom-of-Lightwood-and-recently-legitimized-by-a-magic-sword-that-only-speaks-the-truth-as-King-of-Herondale came to the threshold of Magnus Bane’s lands. He tied his mare at the gates, drew his sword and made his way to the Warlock’s very front door. 

 

“I have come for my love!” he shouted at the Warlock’s door. “I have come for Clarissa of Fray! Come and fight me warlock!”

 

Lo, the doors of the Warlock’s castle swung open, and a great wind howled through the garden and a booming voice spoke.

 

 “Let’s not and say we did. You’re just in time for breakfast.”

 

And King Jace was silent. 

 

* * *

 

 

He hadn't fought any one. Clarissa hadn't shouted his name from the tower she was locked in. She had not, in fact, seemed to have been locked anywhere at all, and none of the huge magical plants in the garden had tried to eat him. 

 

Now Jace was in the castle’s solarium, which was full of large, silk pillows and had a large square table, only a few feet high at its center. The table was spread with plates full of fruit and breads and small delicate foods he didn't recognize. There was juice, tea, a bubbly sort of wine that had made Jace sneeze when he tried it, and a decanter of an odd smelling dark brown liquid. 

 

Magnus had poured himself a cup of the brown liquid, and topped the cup up with cream. Clarissa had mixed the bubbling wine with a little bit of a pink juice. 

 

Only Jace was fully dressed. Clarissa and her host,  both in nightclothes and dressing gowns, lounged on the pillows surrounding the table in a shockingly casual manner, and if it had not been for the way the wholly unexpected second Princess, Lydia, who, while also still dressing in her sleeping clothes, at least continued to sit up straight as she ate, and the assurances of his magic sword which only spoke the truth, Jace would have suspected Magnus of putting Clarissa under some kind of spell. 

 

Clarissa finished her drink, poured another one and plucked a piece of flat bread off one of the plates. She tore a piece off and dipped it into a tan sort of tan paste. Jace did the same. He’d never tasted anything like it. It was good.

 

“Princess Clarissa,” Lydia finally broke the silence. “May I ask you a question?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“What brought you to Magnus’s?”

 

Clarissa smiled and set her head to Jace’s shoulder for a moment. Her hair smelled like sunshine, and warm press of her made up for so many nights on the cold hard ground. 

 

“My love for Jace brought me here,” she said warmly. It clearly wasn't the answer Lydia had been seeking.

 

“Queen Jocelyn wouldn't give us her blessing,” Jace supplied. “And I can understand why. My lineage was in question at the time I proposed to Clary. But I defeated the sorcerer Valentine—”

 

“Harrumph. Sorcerer my hilt.”

 

Princess Lydia did not look surprised at the fifth voice in the room. She failed to look surprised in the practiced way that Princesses had. She was diplomatically unsurprised. 

 

“I’m…sorry,” Lydia said. “What was that?”

 

Jace forced his own drilled in polite grin. “My apologies, that is my sword. It is enchanted to only speak the truth. It’s a very ancient artifact and it has… developed a personality.”

 

“I embarrass him,” the sword said again in its slow nasal voice. “He wishes he’d just brought a regular sword with him.”

 

Magnus Bane grinned with delight, grabbed a dish off the table and leaned back again.

 

“Uh…” Jace said, seeking his train of thought. “So… I defeated Valentine and with the assistance of the sword I was able to confirm that I was in fact, noble, but Clarissa thought it best that I… sweeten the pot for her mother. So to speak.”

 

“I’m afraid I don’t understand you, King Jace,” Lydia replied. She pulled the decanter of brown liquid to herself and sniffed it cautiously before pouring herself a mug. Magnus Bane snapped his fingers and the little pot of cream tottered across the table toward her. 

 

“My mother still had her reservations about the marriage,” Clarissa said. “Even though I’m two years older than she was when she was married _and_ Jace is already a King, _and_ Herondale is a wonderful kingdom. So… I suggested that I run away. Then when Jace rescued me, my mother would have no choice but to accept the marriage. The kingdoms will demand it. It’s very traditional. _And respectable_. Two of the Baroness of Blackthorn’s daughters were rescued from the local dragon. The Queen of Penhallow married her husband after he rescued her from a forest witch. And Elaine Whitlelaw— the queen mother— when she was our age her husband broke a spell that had turned her into a statue. Even _my mother_ won’t be able to argue against all that.” 

 

Clarissa laughed her tinkling laugh and wrapped her arm around Jace’s waist. He couldn’t keep himself from grinning. 

 

Lydia’s perfectly composed smile appeared on her face again. “I’m very happy for you.”

 

“Can I ask you what you ran away from?” Jace asked. 

 

“It would be very rude of you,” the sword opined. “It’s quite a personal question.”

 

Jace debated with himself about the best way to address this, before finally settling on, “My sword of course is correct. Please accept my apology, your Highness. I only thought that… since I am a King, it might be in my power to assist you with your troubles. Right, sword?”

 

“He does mean that,” the sword sighed. “But he hasn’t really thought through how he might help you, and he still has to get Clarissa all the way back to Fray.”

 

“A very pressing problem indeed,” Magnus Bane said. “If Princess Lydia will forgive me for interrupting, we really should get to work on getting the two of you back on the road if you want to reach the nearest inn by nightfall.”

 

“Magnus wants me out of his hair,” Clarissa whispered loudly. 

 

Magnus fixed his kohl lined on Jace. “Herondale is about to be a very honest kingdom, your Majesty.”

 

* * *

 

“Jace did want to help you, you know,” Clary said softly as Lydia followed her into her room. 

 

“I know, and I appreciate it, I do. I just… I’m not sure exactly what I was running away from.”

 

Clarissa opened her closet, pulled out a small traveling sack and tossed it on to her bed. She dumped it out and began sorting its contents. 

 

It was easier to talk to her back than to her wide, empathetic face though. Lydia just had to remember that, while she felt like a stranger, she was in fact the daughter of the woman that was very likely to marry the regent of Lydia’s Lady in Waiting, and best friend. 

 

No other royal was really ever a stranger. 

 

“I mean… my father did accept a proposal that I didn’t want, from a man I found a little frightening.”

 

“You poor dear,” Clarissa cooed as she put things neatly back into the bag. She hiccuped, and set and hand to her chest with a small laugh. She’d had three glasses of that bubbly wine over breakfast. 

 

“But… I think… I think I just didn’t want to get married.”

 

“Not just because of the suitor?” Clarissa asked as she took off her dressing gown and fetched a chemise from the closet. “Do you not _ever_ want to get married?”

 

Lydia considered this. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I want at all. I just didn’t want to be sold off to an old man. And I have three older sisters, so I can’t demand much better.”

 

Clarissa swapped her night dress for her chemise, then took a bodice from the closet and began to work the string through the grommets on the front.  “Of course, Lydia. I mean… I certainly understand the desire for romance. It’s very endearing, isn’t it? Jace coming all this way? Rescuing me from a Warlock’s lair?”

 

She smiled up at Lydia, so obviously happy and lovestruck that Lydia nearly didn’t have it in her to correct the younger woman. 

 

“”Rescue” is a little strong, don’t you think?” Lydia said, unable to help herself. “I mean… Magnus strikes me as pretty gracious about his place in your little scheme.”

 

“Well,” Clarissa said with a shrug. “It’s the thought that counts. And it was a long journey.”

 

Lydia decided not to argue any further.  Clarissa started folding up her night dress and gown. “I’m taking this with me, I’ve absolutely fallen in love with it. It’s so comfortable.” She forced the fabric into the top of her traveling sack, then looked around the room and pulled the straps closed. 

 

Lydia pointed to the full closet. “None of these are yours?”

 

Clarissa shook her head. “Magnus was serious. All the other girls leave their things here when they get rescued.” She pointed at the dress she was wearing. “I knew I’d only be here for a few days, I only brought two dresses. Will you come see us off?”

 

“Of course.”

 

Lydia followed Clarissa to the front door, where Magnus was standing with Jace and his horse, evidently supplying the King with enough rations for his journey home. 

 

Clarissa ran to Jace, who hugged her tight before taking her bag and securing it to one of the saddle bags. He kissed her hair, then lifted her up onto the horse before extending his hand to Magnus. 

 

“I thank you, for watching over my dear Clarissa, Warlock Bane.”

 

“I hope your thanks is not fleeting,” Magnus replied, taking Jace’s hand in his own and giving it a firm shake. 

 

“It won’t be,” Jace said. Lydia was surprised at the sincerity in his voice. She hoped he would make a good king. 

 

Jace gracefully pulled himself onto his horse behind Clary. 

 

“So the Inn I suggest you stay at is due west. They make a lovely supper and boast very large comfortable beds and… discrete staff,” Magnus said with a wink.

 

Jace’s pale skin went red. “I… well,” he sputtered. “I would not want to do anything to compromise my lady’s virtue.”

 

His face froze up as he said it, and he had barely finished before the the sword chimed in. 

 

“Well he certainly doesn’t mean _that_.”

 

Clarissa, for her part, leaned back against Jace. “I could be talked into a bit of compromise.”

 

Jace went from red to  to purple. 

 

“Thank you again, Magnus,” he sputtered, before he dug his heels into his horses sides, and cantered out of garden. 

**Author's Note:**

> This story is totes a Dealing With Dragons AU, but I didn't want to scare anyone who hasn't read that book off because you definitely don't need to have read it to get what's going on in this story. 
> 
> But you should read it! It's a Middle Grade book from the early 90's about a badass princess who tell the kingdom to fuck off and goes to work for a dragon. 
> 
> Dealing with Dragons, Patricia C. Wrede.


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